February 07, 2003

F.A. TV Review: This Way to the Egress

"Excessive media attention continues to destroy what's left of Michael Jackson. Film at eleven!"

27 million Americans tuned in to watch last night's Michael Jackson documentary, and I was one of 'em. The numbers aren't as impressive as Britain's (half the nation watched), but it's pretty impressive. We still love our freak shows, but (as the popularity of reality television proves) our high moral standards demand that the anomalies be self-inflicted. Unfortunately, after settling in for a good evening's gawk I was treated to a media spectacle that made Michael seem almost rational by comparison.

Well, almost. Before I go on, I oughta point out that Jacko is obviously crazier than a sack of spider monkeys. He's a walking passion play, a police sketch artist's composite of what our culture's obsessions with youth, beauty, and fame might look like if given a (somewhat) human face. He's easily our finest Loony Millionaire since Howard Hughes, and he grants access!


[Photo: Michael Jackson, stumping even the
greatest minds in the comic captioning business.]

But about midway through the program I detected the distinct aroma of ludicrous self-importance and personal puffery coming off of interviewer Martin Bashir. What's a journalist to do when his subject cheerfully reveals every quirk and eccentricity in the first five minutes of an interview? An unschooled viewer might assume that all Jackson really needed was a camera and enough rope!

This is when Bashir went into a desperately weird PI mode, turning the camera on himself and stomping around like a Nabokovian antihero. We were treated to long monologues about the difficulty of his task and moody shots of Bashir staring at the sea and contemplating how he was ever going to confront Jackson one last time about his plastic surgery (the answer, it turned out, was something like, "Um, so, one last time, have you had plastic surgery?").

I suppose it is problematic when you've got a subject who is so devastatingly transparent and all of your "revelations" have already been covered by every news outlet in the world. So perhaps Bashir can be forgiven for some of his odd behavior. But it was odd.

Example: The Germany trip is a disaster. Jackson dangles his baby from the balcony, nearly chokes said dangler while neurotically feeding it the next day, and then ambles off to get his other kids killed at the zoo. All of this had been reported previously.

Then Bashir's voiceover cuts in and direly intones that the Tragedies of Germany were not over for the King of Pop. He would suffer one more abject humiliation...

Cut to the "Let's Honor Michael Jackson Awards" or some such nonsense. The ceremony's in German, Jackson can't tell when he's being introduced, and he ALMOST ENTERS BEFORE HIS CUE. Fortunately, he ducks behind a set piece and kinda crawls awkwardly out of the way.

Now, anyone who's been part of a live event before knows that this kind of thing happens all the time, and there's not a performer out there who hasn't blown an entrance a couple of times. Jackson in that moment didn't seem especially freaky, he just did what I and thousands of other performers would've done. But Bashir would not leave Germany without an Exclusive, so his increasingly melodramatic voice went on and on about the DEGRADATION, the HUMILIATION, and the BIZARRE way that Michael shrugged it off later. Sifting through my own backstage memories (like "The Tale of the Pants, the Embarrassingly Spilled Drink, and the Overly Warm Hair Dryer" - a classic!), I gave silent thanks that none of them were narrated by Martin Bashir. I'd have committed myself to a middle income nuthouse long ago.

Then, of course, there was ABC's "rebranding" of the British program: Barbara Walters solemnly providing encapsulations and previews (in English) of what Bashir had already encapsulated and previewed (in English). She could not have been less useful had she been reading the closed-captioning aloud along with the program. And THEN there was the continual misconduct of the paparazzi, which made me, a lifelong gun opponent, start thinking that some judicious hunting might thin out the herd and benefit everyone...

I couldn't watch the "Primetime Live" special that followed, though apparently 23.5 million Americans were made of stronger stuff. Suffice to say that the opening, featured Chief Inspector Bashir receiving his prize: being interviewed. By now he was in high moral dudgeon, implying that Something Ought To Be Done, and very evidently in desperate need of a crisis counselor after spending eight months with a famous loony.

I turned it off. It was too much. We only tuned in to laugh at the freak, and I ended up overwhelmed with contempt for the callous cruelty and petty ambition of all mankind. And where's the fun in that?

Posted by Adam Felber at 02:14 PM | Comments (3)

February 06, 2003

Powell Delivers "Smoking Gun" Evidence at U.N.

Posted by Adam Felber at 02:14 AM | Comments (9)

February 04, 2003

Transcript of Bush/Putin Phone Call

"MOSCOW (Reuters) - President Bush telephoned Russian President Vladimir Putin (news - web sites) Tuesday to discuss latest developments on Iraq, the Kremlin said. Bush used the hotline to Putin on the eve of a crucial speech..."
- from Yahoo!

PUTIN: [inaudible]... Um, hello?

BUSH: Pooty-poot?

PUTIN: Huh? George?

BUSH: How ya doin'?

PUTIN: But... [inaudible]... What are you doing with calling at this hour?

BUSH: What're you talking about? It's the middle of the day, P.P.!

PUTIN: Not here it is not.

BUSH: Not readin' you there, Poot. Is this some kinda Star Trek wormhole thing? Like you're traveling back in time, and I'm goin'... no wait, it'd be you tra-

PUTIN: Nevermind. I am now awake. What is it you are calling about?

BUSH: Well, you know... Iraq. I was kinda wonderin' if you're ready to say it was, like, okay for us to go in and attack now.

PUTIN: No.

BUSH: Okay, gotcha. [pause] How 'bout now?

PUTIN: No.

BUSH: Now?

PUTIN: George, please be stopping with that. I have told you, we would like to be seeing some more of the inspections, or at least some evidence of weaponry or obstruction.

BUSH: Right. But the thing is, we'd really like to invade pretty soon.

PUTIN: I know. I wish I could help more. My people, though, my advisors...

BUSH: It's just not fair, that's all.

PUTIN: There there, George. Be looking on the bright side - tomorrow is your Mr. Powell's big speech, no? Probably he will present enough evidence for us to justify the war. You have said there is much evidence, no?

BUSH: Yeah, about that... [inaudible]

PUTIN: What?

BUSH: Well, what if - now remember, this is all hypnothetimal here - but what if the evidence Collie lays down is more like... um...

PUTIN: What are you saying?

BUSH: Well, more like evidence of evidence, y'know?

PUTIN: No, I am not knowing this.

BUSH: Well, I mean, it's good evidence, from what I've seen! But some people might call it, uh, circumcisional.

PUTIN: Are you talking about not having the smoking gun satellite photos and documents that you have been with the promising of?

BUSH: No! We have 'em! We got the satellite stuff and documents. They're just more like, more like...

PUTIN: Yes?

BUSH: ... artist's renderings, kinda. Would that be good enough?

PUTIN: What? Of course not.

BUSH: They're really good. With all the right perspectivication and stuff. I mean, it looks just as real as like, remember when in "The Two Towers" that guy with the beard is falling with that firey whippy guy, right? And then the fire guy's all like-

PUTIN: Enough! I am be going back to the sleep now.

BUSH: So, um, does that mean you'd back an attack now?

PUTIN: No.

BUSH: Fine, fine, that's your choice. [pause] How 'bout now?

PUTIN: Good night, George.

BUSH: Now? Was that a yes?

PUTIN: [inaudible]

BUSH: Hello? Pooty-poot? What, are you just gonna nap all day? No wonder those pesos of yours aren't worth anything! Hello?

[end transcript]

Posted by Adam Felber at 02:07 PM | Comments (14)

February 03, 2003

Our Grand Re-Opening!

As you can see, we've snazzified ourselves around here. Gargantuan thanks must be extended to Deb from "Sometimes I..." She made this redesign happen. I simply played Gilligan to her Skipper.

Henceforth, all 2003 Fanatical Apathy entries shall be Searchable. They shall be Instantly Archived. The Permalinks to various entries shall be truly Permanent. So it is written; so let it be... uh, written.

Also, I think there's an RSS feed thingie around here somewhere. Probably on the wall or something, I prob'ly just gotta move a few doohickeys around and adjust the thingamabob a little... Let me know if it's "on."

Worry not, though: All your old, brilliant comments, along with the old archives (in the old format), can be accessed through that link over there on the right (the one that's cleverly disguised with the words "Old Archives").

More changes are to come, no doubt. But for now just come on in and make yourselves comfortable; after all, we've got a constantly-approaching war to watch, a new session of Congress to provide us with heartstopping thrills and chills, and a bank heist to plan... Truly, our cups runneth under.

Posted by Adam Felber at 01:08 AM | Comments (22)

February 02, 2003

A Simple Plan

Bush's new budget projects a $307 billion deficit. Now, cynics might say that Bush has abandoned all pretense of fiscal responsibility and is following the modern Republican tradition of digging a deep hole and then mocking the Democrats who are forced to fill it in with tax money. But we don't necessarily NEED to raise taxes to fill the hole - all we need, as the administration keeps telling us, is a hyper-stimulated economy.

Of course, the tax cuts are supposed to stimulate the economy. But the last round of tax cuts was supposed to do that too, and what did we get? A stock market graph you could ski down. Clearly, we need something more, something that’ll kick-start this economy while giving this country the kind of sense of purpose that we usually only get from kicking some smaller country’s posterior. Fortunately for you all, you’ve got me. And I’ve got a plan. Gather round.

We pull off a bank job.

I’m serious, we could do it. I’m thinking Switzerland, maybe one of the big banks in Geneva where they’ve got billions of dollars in gold and jewels in those huge underground vaults. We just case the joint, work out a plan, and then go all "Ocean’s 11" on their asses. We could even make it look like Iran did it; you know, put a bumper sticker on the getaway car that says “I (heart) Sharia” or “Honk if You Favor the Brutal Repression of Reform-Minded Moderate Muslim Clerics” or something.

After we get the cash home, it’s a pretty simple trick to get the economy rolling again: “Oh, hey, here’s 250 billion dollars in the treasury that we must’ve overlooked! Our bad. I guess we’ll just have to send everyone a 100,000 dollar tax refund…” And two weeks later we’re all buying S.U.V.’s and hiring manservants and partying like it was 1999 all over again.

Yeah, it sounds crazy – but here’s the beauty: If we got caught, what are they gonna do, try us in the International Criminal Court? Oh, you mean the international court we didn't join? Psyche!

Naturally, it'd be silly to leave the planning up to government bureaucrats. We're much better off working out the details and then selling the government on the idea. So today I'm announcing a new Fanatical Apathy mission: Project Heist. Please feel free to submit your plans below.

Posted by Adam Felber at 12:33 AM | Comments (3)

January 31, 2003

Dear Dick

The right advice for the right people from your Vice President


Dear Dick,

Hi - I'm a big fan and a long-time reader, but this is my first time writing to you.

I'm just your average middle-aged CEO trying to make his way in the world. Like you, I stand to earn an extra few hundred thousand dollars thanks to the elimination of the tax on dividends (thanks!). But that's where my problem starts.

The windfall is far more money than I coud ever hope to spend in a year. At first I thought I might reinvest in the economy, maybe hire a few more employees, etc. But these are uncertain times, and after some long soul-searching, I realized that what I really want is to just be hugely, ridiculously, disgustingly rich.

But anywhere I put my money, it seems like the interest is going to be taxed, thereby slowing the rate of growth of my ludicrously obscene fortune. That just doesn't seem fair! Is there any way that I can solve this dilemma?

Please let me know. I haven't been sleeping well lately; I've been up nights worrying that despite the elimination of the death tax (THANKS!), someday one of my great great great great grandchildren might be forced to get a job. Any help you could offer would be much appreciated.

- Desperate in Dallas



Dear Desperate,

Fret not! Put on those monogrammed Dr. Denton's and pad off to the master bedroom; you're about to sleep like a baby!

If you open up today's newspaper, you'll see a li'l surprise that we've cooked up, something that seemed a little too "hot" for the State of the Union dog and pony show: We're fixing to create a newer, bigger kind of "retirement" account where your hard-earned bucks can be fruitful and multiply tax-free all the livelong decade!

It's the perfect solution for youngsters like you. Heck, even struggling seniors like myself who depend on that dividend income to make ends meet might want to sock a little away for the the years ahead.

So there you go. But there's no need to thank me so much - just passing these huge tax reforms turns out to be its own reward, right?

Posted by Adam Felber at 12:31 AM | Comments (0)

January 30, 2003

Test

Test, yo

Posted by Adam Felber at 10:07 PM | Comments (9)

January 29, 2003

Bush Delivers Iconic State of the Union Address


Posted by Adam Felber at 07:33 PM | Comments (1)

January 28, 2003

Worst Case Scenario


So last night, while I pondered, weak and weary (bourbon and Chinese food do NOT mix), I started wondering...

Okay, it's the spring of 2002, and the U.S. is making serious noises about invading Iraq. And they mean it this time. If I'm Saddam Hussein, what am I gonna do?

Well, first and foremost I'd lose the moustache. And then I'd think seriously about dropping 10 or 20 pounds those jowls aren't go to fix themselves. But then I'd start taking stock of my situation:


-------------------------------

Check on the ol’ weapons programs… Not a lot to be proud of there. Nukes are a few years and a ton of equipment away, and even then I’d probably have to deploy ‘em via Fed Ex. There’s chemical and biological weapons, yes, but they’re kinda hazardous on the battlefield, seeing as my warheads have about the same range as the post-1980 Sinatra and any change in wind direction could turn my Republican Guard into hazardous waste. Plus the Yanks’ll have masks and what-not. Damn.

Conventional forces? I’m not an idiot (my taste in hats notwithstanding). With the might of Allah on my side, several years of preparation, and a lot of luck, my guys could probably hold out against the Americans… for about fifteen minutes or so. Provided the enemy has to stop and ask directions once or twice.

Okay, so I’m hosed. But wait: Isn’t there one thing I could do… one devious little thing… that might turn it all around for me? Ye-e-e-essssss…..

It just might work. Why, it would cost the Americans billions of dollars. There would be death and destruction. There would be worldwide anti-American outrage that’d surpass anything we’ve ever seen. And, if I manage to survive, when it was all over I would be a hero. I’d be restored to power by worldwide consensus and have all those sanctions lifted instantaneously. Yes, it could work!

And all I’d have to do is quietly dismantle and dispose of all of my weapons of mass destruction.

Is there time to do that before the Americans invade? A little. A little more, perhaps, if I let the inspectors in…

--------------------------------------------

But that probably never occurred to him. I mean, a move like could only be made by an extraordinarily Machiavellian madman, a risk-taker who was completely willing to sacrifice his own people in order to achieve his nefarious end… Oh.

Posted by Adam Felber at 03:37 PM | Comments (1)

The Shape of Things to Come


There are going to be some changes around the Fanatical Apathy homestead. No, don't fret - the actual daily(ish) content will remain more or less the same, as (according to my latest business model) I won't be able to afford to hire an actual writing staff until the spring of 2045. But although the past year has brought us the F.A. Boutique and the mighty Forum (which I still cannot believe actually works - I have no idea how I did it...), there's a few improvements that need to be wrought. So here's the breakdown, the big To Do List, and I encourage you all to add to it or offer help in the implementation....

First off, I've gotten many requests for an "RSS feed." This I will provide, as soon as I figure out a little bit about it. I understand that some services have it built in, but this doesn't seem to be an option in the non-Pro version of Blogger.

Which brings me to improvement #2: I'm thinking that a lot of your requests might be accomodated by making the transition to Movable Type. Said requests include better, categorized links, easier navigation, and "permalinks" that are truly "perma" (see, I do my archives manually because of a Blogger bug that existed when I started, and I... what? Oh, that's right - you don't care...). The only problem is that I would like to maintain the general look that was so skillfully designed for me by Lyncca Hunter over at Accented Touch. Any suggestions about how I might do that would be very much appreciated.

Anything else? You're always welcome to suggest changes, of course (though your name does get forwarded to John Ashcroft as a potential trouble-maker, but that's just my patriotic duty). But now is a particularly good time to suggestulate. And to HELP. Remember - only you can help Fanatical Apathy make a smooth transition into this second 33rd of the 21st Century.

Posted by Adam Felber at 12:07 PM | Comments (0)

January 27, 2003

The State of the Union Drinking Game! (2003 Edition)


One year ago, when this site was still toddling around in knee-pants, I unveiled
The State of the Union Drinking Game! (2002 Edition)
. It was a runaway, smash-hit, blockbuster success for this site and the thirty people who were reading it at the time. Its appeal, like any good drinking game, was that it was cleverly designed to get a group of people very, very drunk in a way that seems slightly more elegant than someone yelling "Hey, let's all drink too much right NOW!"

Updating the game for this year was a bit depressing, because there's so little that truly needs updating. The economy is still slogging through mud, the pervasive stink of corporate collusion and corruption is still being sidestepped by the denizens of the White House and politely ignored by most of the press, and we are still fighting the evil-doers in the Middle East (yes, as a very wise man once crooned, the "names have all changed since you've come around/ But those dreams still remain, and they turn around...").

So the amendations to the Drinking Game are largely cosmetic, reflecting rhetorical shifts in Bush's patter more than any real change or progress. But it's still a civic duty to watch the Address, and this is still the best way to do so while avoiding fits of rage and despair. So choose your poison, gather round the telly, and play....

The State of the Union Drinking Game! (2003 Edition)

This year's address will be divided into two parts: "The War On and Around Terrorism" and "The Economy, Stupid." The rules vary depending on the subject Bush is tackling, so pay attention:

1) The War: Whenever the President says "evil," everyone must raise their glass and take a drink. It's good form to make a brief toast of sorts, something like "Down with evil!" or "Evil is bad!" "Evil" should be pronounced with a soft "i" ["Evihl"].

Whenever the President utters the phrase "weapons of mass destruction," everyone drinks. Before downing the drink, however, everyone must affect a cartoony Evil Arab voice and say things like "Quick, hide the weapons!" and "They'll never find 'em here!"

If the President says "inspectors," think fast! The first person to say "That's me!" becomes "the Blix." The Blix then points out anyone else in the game ("the Saddam"), who must then prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he/she is not hiding a nuclear warhead somewhere within a twenty mile radius. At any point (preferably after a few seconds) anyone can yell "time's up!" at which point the Saddam is obliged to finish whatever's left of his or her drink. It's good form for the Saddam to mutter something like "And I would've gotten away with it, too..." before drinking.

2) The Economy: Whenever the President says "tax cuts" or "cut taxes," everyone must raise their glasses and exclaim "Tax this!" Each person is then expected to consume whatever they think is a fair percentage of their drink.

During the Domestic portion of the speech, keep your eyes peeled. At any time, anyone can choose to silently extend their hand forward, palm up, to receive a Corporate Handout (though it's good form to wait until the President mentions some sort of economic incentive). When you see someone do this, you must do so as well (thus becoming one of "The Rich"). The last person to extend their hand becomes "The Bottom 90%" and must drink, while everyone else yells things like "Who let him in?!" and "Get a job!" and "You'd be pulling your own weight if you didn't drink so much!"

Special note: If, after the speech, a pollster calls your house, immediately hand the phone to the soberest person in the room. That person should say nothing but extremely positive things about George W. Bush. Research indicates that anything less than a 10 point bump in the President's approval rating will result in immediate war. Remember, the Fate of the Union is in your hands.

Posted by Adam Felber at 02:01 PM | Comments (1)

January 25, 2003

Despite Evidence, U.S. Claims to be "Really, Really Popular"


From CNN - "Colin Powell says the United States is counting on the support of at least a dozen countries for war against Iraq -- with or without another U.N. Security Council resolution... "I don't want to give names or give you a count, because I think each country should speak for itself on a matter as important as this," Powell said, en route to Davos. "So we would not be alone, that's for sure. I could rattle off at least a dozen off memory and I think there will be more...""

Sadly, CNN does not report the rest of the dialog between the reporter and Powell, which was very revealing. But now, thanks to Fanatical Apathy's crack staff of investigative jounalists, you can read the rest of the exchange:

REPORTER: Oh, come on - twelve?! I bet you don't even have one!

POWELL: Yes I do.

REPORTER: Do not.

POWELL: Yuh-huh!

REPORTER: Nuh-uh!

POWELL: Shut up.

REPORTER: Come on, nobody would ally themselves with you.

POWELL: Yes they would. But I don't ally and tell.

REPORTER: You'll have to tell if there's a war, because you're going to be showing up to it alone, loser-face.

POWELL: No I'm not! I've got plenty of plans with other countries!

REPORTER: Then tell me who. Name just one.

POWELL: This... this country.

REPORTER: Which one?

POWELL: Not telling. You wouldn't know 'em.

REPORTER: Where'd you meet?

POWELL: Last summer...at camp.

REPORTER: What camp? I know a lot of countries that meet at camps.

POWELL: (inaudible)

REPORTER: What was that?

POWELL: I don't have to tell you! I have lots and lots of allies that you don't know about.

REPORTER: Liar.

POWELL: Shut up!

REPORTER: Just give me one country's name. Just one name.

POWELL(quietly): Britain.

REPORTER: She doesn't count! Everyone knows Britain would ally herself with anyone.

POWELL: Take that back!

REPORTER: Name another.

POWELL: I can't.

REPORTER: Because there aren't any more.

POWELL: Yes, yes there are.

REPORTER: No there aren't.

POWELL (quietly): Turkey.

REPORTER: No way! Turkey's not sure about you. I asked. So that is a big fat lie.

POWELL: I was just kidding about Turkey! I just wanted you to see how stupid you are.

REPORTER: So who are the others?

POWELL: That's my own personal beeswax.

REPORTER: No it isn't.

POWELL: Yuh-huh.

REPORTER: Nuh-uh!

etc.

Posted by Adam Felber at 02:46 PM | Comments (0)